


A Change in Priorities

by Seanymphe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:20:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28909227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seanymphe/pseuds/Seanymphe
Summary: What begins as mere fascination for Tom Riddle develops into an obsession with Hogwarts' new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 28
Kudos: 117





	A Change in Priorities

**Author's Note:**

> Yes this is a repost of an old, deleted work. And, for those of you who've read it before, you'll notice that these first chapters are going to be heavily revised. Hear me out on this: When I started this, I rushed through character development and missed out on a lot of potential in the early chapters (and some of the later ones) because I was too focused on the end, which I hadn't even fleshed out yet. I now have a more clear picture of my characters, my writing abilities have improved, and I have had the time to figure out exactly where I want this story to go, beginning to end. The younger years will still be shorter, but they'll be a lot more fleshed out (...and better written). The later chapters will remain mostly - mostly - the same, with minor editing, and the story will continue until it's finished. 
> 
> So, there it is. I'm willing to send PDFs of the old version if anyone really wants it

The first time he saw her, he assumed she was too young to be a teacher. 

Presenting herself without any grand introduction, she merely stood as Headmaster Dippet went on about her - Professor Granger, covering Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

“That’s not a name I’ve heard before,” whispered Nott, leaning in closer as the table dutifully scrutinized her, “And you know my dad works in the Ministry. If there’s a name worth knowing, I’ve heard it.”

_ ‘Haven’t heard the name Riddle before, you know,’  _ had been Tom’s entire first semester at Hogwarts. By the end of the year, they knew his name well enough to know better than to bring it up.

“My dad works at the Ministry too, you know.” Parkinson always liked to insert himself into conversations where he had little, if nothing, to offer. “And I rarely hear him mention names. You can’t honestly think your father knows everyone - for all you know, he only brings it up when he meets someone important.”

Having caught a hint of intrigue from the otherwise droning Headmaster, Tom quickly put an end to the conversation. “If your father went chattering about the way Nott’s does, he’d hardly’ve kept his position as an unspeakable.”

Snickers and snorts scattered through the group as Parkinson sulked back. 

“After spending time combing through remnants of history, searching and studying the rare, the lost, and the mythical, it seems only fitting that she find her way to the ancient halls of our castle.” 

If she specialized in archeology, she’d be an obvious fit for a History of Magic position - currently unavailable, as it was occupied by Professor Binns - not Defense. Which immediately leant itself to question -  _ What was she looking for? What did she find? _

Maybe nothing. Maybe she was a last minute hire, the best suited candidate for a seat left urgently open after Merryweather got up one summer morning and decided to move to Australia. But this was  _ Hogwarts _ , not some silly old school. If there was a position open, there’d have been enough applications to fill all of the Headmaster’s office. 

There had to be a reason she was chosen. Something that made her unique. Special. 

If there was something Tom looked for in anything at all, it was the very concept of  _ special _ .

* * *

The first day of class confirmed that if she wasn’t special, she was, at the bare minimum, exceptionally talented. 

And that she was about to become a least favorite among the students, no doubt. “This isn’t a class you can sleep through and expect to pass,” are not words most kids are thrilled to hear - especially not as the opening sentence to your introduction. 

“You will do your reading before class, not during it. If you do not, you will fail. My job isn’t to teach you reading comprehension, my job is to teach you how to defend yourselves. That’s not to say there won’t be discussion, or that I won’t answer questions as they arise. It is to say that you will come prepared or that you shouldn’t bother at all. This won’t be a sugar coated class where you learn ghost stories; Everything I teach you about you will be trained to encounter regardless of necessity. You all know that there is magic in this world that can and will harm you - or worse - if given the chance, but so few of you _understand_. By the end of this course, you will.”

The reactions throughout the room varied from looks of excitement, looks of abject horror, and everything in between - frustration at the idea of actually having to do work, boredom from not listening to a single word that was just said (Longbottom was, without doubt, going to fail). 

Without preamble, the first lesson of the year began.

* * *

“She can’t actually be serious!” Abraxas flopped back against the sofa of the common room, whining and moaning even more than he usually did. “Four pages on how to protect yourself from a vampire?! How about one sentence - Don’t go looking for one in the first place!”

Predictably, Tom’s classmates were less than pleased with their new teacher. 

“That’d be avoidance,” Tom drawled, already pulling out his quill, “Not protection.” 

“Better safe than sorry! Maybe  _ she  _ likes galloping around in the woods, but the rest of us stay in polite society, where vampires aren’t a problem. Honestly, someone needs to write the Ministry about this.”

At that, Tom nearly snorted. “And tell them what? That we actually have a teacher doing her job? That the next generation of Aurors will be the most skilled yet? I highly doubt they’d find issue with that.”

When Malfoy pouted, he looked a bit like the pudding sculptures the house elves made to celebrate Merlin’s birthday.

* * *

During his first year, Tom had only ever made a habit of visiting one teacher outside classroom hours; Slughorn was easy to get information out of, you just had to get him rambling first. 

He hadn’t really planned on showing up at Granger’s office door, book in hand, but nevertheless, he couldn’t help his thirst for knowledge and he did, after all, have a question. The door opened before he could so much as knock.

There was probably a spell that could do that - act as an alarm. It might be helpful to put on his trunk, should he ever get a proper look through the dorm without everyone else around.

Professor Slughorn was right - his office was a water closet compared to this one. But that hardly mattered - he wasn’t here to inspect the architecture. Or the mangy orange cat staring at him from across the room.

“If iron burns fairies, does that mean an iron blade wouldn’t properly kill them?” 

Her response was a quirked eyebrow, followed with, “I suppose I have to ask if you’re stabbing them or attempting to separate their necks from their bodies.”

_Certainly an interesting response_ , he mused. “Attempting? Is failure a possibility?” 

Leaning forward, she sighed, “Failure is always a possibility.” 

A part of him briefly considered that she was speaking from personal experience, referencing something of which he had no knowledge, but the thought dismissed itself as his eyes wandered to a book at the edge of her desk. 

_ Health and Magic: A Journey Through Blood  _

Before he could halt his curiosity, his hands were already reaching towards it. Her hands were faster. 

“I’m sorry,” he rushed, averting his gaze. “I merely wanted a look at the title.” 

“Liar,” she immediately corrected, though a sly grin played on her face. “That’s not a book suited for twelve year olds, Tom.” 

Being referred to as a child - a  _ kid  _ \- was something he’d despised his entire life. Even in his youngest years, he’d had comprehension beyond what he ought to. And besides, why should he be limited by the slowness of others his age? Why should _he_ be held to their low standards over something as insignificant as his date of birth?

Standing up straighter, he countered back, “I’m very mature for my age.” 

That peculiar grin only widened as she leaned back in her chair. “That’s very likely true.” 

It took a mental reminder to keep from scowling at that. “Then why can’t I look?” 

“Because I want you to prove it first.” 

“What?” He blinked. Once, then twice, then again as he finally comprehended what she’d just said. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“If you’re so mature, shouldn’t a demonstration of maturity be easy for you?” Folding her arms over where the book rested in her lap, she glanced to the door. It swung open, an obvious gesture. “Show me you’re really mature, and I’ll let you read the book. Until then, goodnight Tom.”

In that moment, he decided he hated her. 

* * *

Granger was wrong: Failure was not always a possibility. Maybe for other people, sure. But _not_ for him.

Getting the book was going to happen, he knew it, the real question was how. 


End file.
